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Wow so after all of that I just can't even think straight. I kind of took today and yesterday off life and tomorrow I'm back to going crazy and trying to do too much during the holiday season.

Tomorrow I go to choir among other things because Thursday and Friday are gone and I'm out of town Saturday and Sunday. I have reserved the 23rd - 25th for doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Which translates to "I'm not leaving the house, I'm eating really bad food and catching up on anime and 'bad' fanfiction and now I'm listening to Rob Thomas and all I want to do is go home for Christmas.

(inserts all the curse words)

So yeah! I started my winter with the Hudson derailment! How's that for a great day, you know? I'm not just talking incidental faith, I'm talking waking up to helicopters over my building because Spuyten Duyvil isn't THAT FAR from Marble Hill and HUDSON LINE, I MEAN COME ON MAN. There's a whole world of mess going on with that that I might write about on TTR, but will probably refrain because I'm tired of getting text messages that say I'm mental. It's being properly documented, but...details.


Uh, November sucked, too? This is why I was hoping December would be better and so far December has just been really busy and I haven't had a chance to properly rest or really douse myself in Christmas cheer. I barely finished NaNoWriMo and all of my projects just kind of suck right now. Nothing's getting done by Christmas. I have a new job I love but I'm still trying to figure out how I'm fitting everything in together as far as time commitments and I probably won't have any of that figured out until the New Year.

Which reminds me. Can't 2013 just keep going? It was kind of awesome.

Moving on. I reserved yesterday for "going to Argo and writing something because I'm stressed out and I've learned the way I destress myself is if I write so let's write something." And after I got a few other (coughpreviousblogentrycough) things sorted out, I wrote the following piece.

I love it. So did Garo. It's, in a way, extremely personal, but can make sense to a new reader. Knowing Digimon is helpful. Knowing Dvorak, specifically The Dealey Five, is very helpful but not necessary as things are explained. It's a bit of a crossover between the two with some HSTF things in there if you know where to look. I'm surprised how much detail I put in it with it really just being a first draft. A couple of notes: it assumes that the time thing that got fixed in Season 2 of Digimon never got fixed (an oversight on my part, but details) and there are very light mentions to "underage" sexual activity? But because of the time paradox ages are all out of whack, and you have to look very hard and it's all consensual. BL, too, but again, details. I'd rate it on an OT16 on the old Tokyopop scale.

I should really shut up now and just post the damn thing.

Shall we initiate the Jogress? )
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She thinks that happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway. )
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So, Takato.

Man, we really went through a lot of bullshit, didn't we?

I don't know if you'll ever find this. Jeri suggested that I try to mail you directly, but knowing you, you'll never actually open the letter. She's insisted this entire time that I, quote en quote, "have to ask for your forgiveness so both of us can start the process of healing." Well, it's her birthday and she's still not talking to me through the one remaining link I have left to Shinjuku, so...uh, whatever? This is the Digital World, Internet, whatever you call it. You know how to access it.

It's not that I don't care, Takato. Let me explain. And maybe you'll hear me out, I don't know. But I think I'm doing this more for myself than for you.

I was a different person three years ago. After beating the D-Reaper and finding our way back to the Digital World, I got antsy. I wanted to surpass the strength I had felt even then. Jeri says I'm crazy, that I shouldn't pursue such crazy, lofty heights, but that's who I am. That's who I've always been. Becoming the Digimon Queen was a way to cope, but it became my life.

When I met Takuya, when he promised me a source of strength that I could find in myself, I'm surprised you didn't stand up more. You told me that it was wrong of me to go with him, that you couldn't trust me anymore. But you could have done more, Takato. And I now know why you didn't do more: because you weren't supposed to do more.

For this, this is the one apology I can give: I am sorry that you got hurt in all of this. Hurt is something that we as humans try to avoid at all costs, even putting on our Digimon. But our Digimon understand better than we do that hurt is a part of life, something to be accepted and something to grow from, as we grow from Champion to Ultimate to Mega. In that sense, and I told Jeri this, I'm NOT sorry. I'm sure that you have become a better person after everything that happened three years ago...and if you haven't, you are the only person stopping yourself from that. You don't have to find me and talk to me about it, just like I don't have to go to your doorstep and beg for forgiveness.

Because, truth be told, I never want to return to Shinjuku.

Takuya and I took to the Digital World after I left Shinjuku. We never went to Shibuya. That was Takuya's decision. His will was strong, something I even couldn't find my way around. He was so strong that he would always be off by himself, trying to be strong and fight for himself. I grew frustrated when I couldn't help him with his problems.

So I hid the only way I knew how: I became stronger myself. Digimon from all around would come to challenge Renamon and myself, and while we never deleted any of them, Renamon did become stronger. It made me realize that perhaps our Digimon are not only packets of data, but representations of ourselves, and why would I have left Shinjuku for someone who didn't even have his own?

When Renamon got pulled into a portal, I followed her into another dimension of our real world. There's an Odaiba in our Tokyo, but it's nothing like this Odaiba. I started to look for people who might know about Digimon and ran into a kid named Davis, who has his own Digimon. I mentioned to him that I was looking for the strongest Digimon Tamer around, and he said he didn't know what I was talking about, but I was probably talking about his friend Tai.

I can't properly explain what I felt when I met Tai. It was kind of akin to opening a door and finally realizing you were home, that every place before that had NOT been home and had just been masquerading, had just been one big lie.

Takuya did find his way through the matrix, by the way. I broke up with him before I met Tai, back when it was just me, Davis, and his friends T.K. and Kari hanging out. Kari is Tai's sister, but I swear, unlike what you probably think of me, that's the closest I got.

I was finally able to figure out that while I've always wanted to be strong, I've been afraid of my strength as well. When I met people, I began to like them and wanted to incorporate their strengths into my own personality. But the world isn't that simple, Takato, and I ended up dating who I wanted to be instead.

Thing is, unlike Takuya, Tai never takes anything seriously. He'll insist the proper way to fix something is to just hit it some more. But he knew from the beginning that this was long-haul. We train with Agumon and Renamon all the time, and I have to find a way to mess with his Digivice so he can biomerge as well. As for real-life biomerging? Let's not even GO there. (wink wink)

I like it here in Odaiba. I'm going to stay. And I don't feel like I need to apologize for my actions. I do apologize for hurting you, but it was only through that hurt that we could both become better people. To forgive and to forget is to make that pain less than it is, to pass it off as something trivial, to go back to the past and start all over. To erase the pain. I don't want to erase the pain. I just want to be me, with Renamon, and Tai and Davis and everybody here.

I just want you to be happy, Takato. And I hope you are.


P.S. That's TOTALLY me in the Zero Two finale. BOO YEAH!
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Five and a half hours is a long time to be stuck in LaGuardia. Read more... )


May. 8th, 2013 01:50 pm
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I know the exact moment I grew up.

It wasn’t in New York City -- quite the opposite. It was midnight, and it was in Zanesville, Ohio. It was the twenty sixth of April and I was tired, but I had an application I really wanted to get done and I was forcing myself through it. I also really needed to print off the lyrics to the song I had written for the funeral the next day.

The entire time I told myself that I was getting all of this ready for the Grand Master List -- and somewhere along the line I broke down and said, “screw the Master List” (I’m at work). And I didn’t care at the moment. I could care less about that stupid list. And that’s when I grew up. Read more... )
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In reality, it has everything to do with timing.

I grew up with expectations. I’ve gone guru guru on this blog about that. It was do something with your talents or else. There were no middle grounds when it came to what I had been gifted with. But somewhere along the line, those who were in charge stopped seeing me as a tool and started seeing me as human (what a weird thing to be).

I wrote before on Facebook, when I was still writing Facebook notes (during my years at Miami, before I started publishing MemR) that I wanted the ability to choose. If it was my destiny to be something other than a famous musician, then I wanted to be able to choose that destiny for myself. It took an extra year at Brookover to realize that, and I think moving to NYC made my parents realize that I am my own person. And if it took the condition that I was living in the world’s greatest city to get there, well, so be it. I kind of had to come here anyway (let the reader understand).

But regardless, I am a woman with the power to choose for herself what the future holds, a woman who (for the most part) pays all her own bills and decides what apartment she lives in and holds that power like a torch. And perhaps I’m not an idiot for wanting to be a woman, instead of a girl. A girl listens and does what she is told at all times. A woman is free from that requirement -- at least, that’s my definition of it. Women aren’t children and therefore do not have to be submissive to their parents. Women just have to be women, with whatever dominant or submissive power they themselves have, and to own that power whatever it may be. The most important factor is that everybody has the power to choose for themselves -- no matter who they are. I believe that’s what America was originally founded on.

But I’m not gonna get on a soapbox right now. I’m just figuring out that I have potential to be a whole lot of things, and that my mother will not be mad at me for wanting to do these things, and being free to make these decisions -- it makes me happy. Who knows? Perhaps destiny really did start to spin again a year to the date. All I know is that I’m a different person than I once was, and I’m not really sure how I got there. It happened somewhere between NYCC and now.

Okay, that rules in one change. But other than the obvious.

Although one part of it is even more obvious now, ever since the onseason started again. Why do I feel so different? More secure in myself? I have a thought as to an idea, one that I have investigated before but in another. Perhaps I felt so stagnant, so guru guru all last year, because I was missing one very important component. And now that I have that component, it’s all ‘arms down, head back, and hold on’ and I don’t know what to do except directly that.

God throws things at us when we’re ready. And I’ve finally reminded myself that I’m ready. And I’m coming back to that for good this time, with a lot more expertise and a confidence in the woman I’ve become, in the woman I’m becoming.

Tuesday morning, in the dark...

I think it comes down to this, stranger: I grew up when you weren’t paying attention. All I had to do was jump on the train and I was whisked away from Neverland (more irony, let the reader understand) and to the land of the living, for the first time. And it’s possible to have both worlds. And it’s wonderful. We often said we were a team; when we let fear get in the way, we stopped being one and I started working by myself. And now, I have a new team of resources from both of my worlds that I have every confidence will not give way.

And we guru guru back to the start.

You are not someone you’re not. You’re only what you are, what I have made you, what you have claimed as your new identity. You don’t have everything figured out yet -- you’re just a kid in so many ways. And yet, you have this incredible maturity, this drive about you, that unwavering desire to be a part of something bigger than yourself. It’s what drives me to worry about you, not because you’re careless and you forget, but because, let’s say, endless sodium is an effect of your master plan. And as you find yourself, I am absolutely fine with running parallel to you, finding myself as well.

Mom and Steph will be in the city this weekend. I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. But I’ve changed ever since time stopped. I couldn’t control it, but I am ever grateful -- greatful -- for it. Maybe I’m not who my parents or my peers wanted me to be. But I am now who I wanted to be, even though I never knew what that was before.

Tonight, we will stay up late and drink Code Red and eat birthday cake Oreos and I will practice spelling words in squiggles and katakana. And when the local train lets us down at 168th, when “the (six) train is too late,” you’ll lead me up the elevator to where the train stamped with our city’s colors, and a registration tied into my own destiny, is waiting.

At the long last.
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I think that happiness is overrated.

Now, I’ve spoken on this subject many times before, but this is another time that I am discovering this. The Bible touches on it a lot, how we are supposed to suffer with a smile on our faces. Society tells us that we have to strive to be happy and do what we want. But in reality, what does that lead to? We always keep wishing for something more.

I don’t think it’s about suffering on purpose -- I think that makes you a martyr. But if things are bad you have to know that God is the one orchestrating everything, He’s in charge, and He’s always got your back. So you shouldn’t insist “God is the one doing all these bad things to me,” but you should be able to find peace in the storm and the strength to keep walking in it.

I think I originally got that wrong; always thinking that I had to suffer if I wanted anything good out of life. That it was my destiny to suffer. I can think of any number of verses that distort this. And yeah it goes back to that argument of society’s commercialization versus the path of righteousness, but I think there’s a middle ground there. I also don’t think that you should stay with someone who is clearly hurting you, or a situation where you are being hurt; I think that God wouldn’t give you anything you’re not able to handle -- and that for 100% sure is biblical. The question then is who gives us our troubles? God doesn’t, although He sometimes lets the devil tests us (Job). The rest of troubles are brought about by us, and the sin that happens when we divert from God’s track; take the Dyre Avenue Line, to give an example. That doesn’t mean there’s a direct 100% right way or you die and you’re a (words I can’t type because I’m at work).

The bottom line is: if you lose control, if you’re floating all guru guru and spinning in circles and not really going anywhere, it’s your responsibility to break out of that, to face forward and start going on the right track again. God lets us walk away in order to ultimately bring us closer to Him, in one way, shape, form, or another.

And as I write this, I think I fully understand the meaning of what He wrote. And I think He’s ultimately in charge of this. Not the most conventional way I’d go about the entire thing, but it seems to work. And as we both walk forward on the White Plains Line, I think God will use that link to strengthen both of us; it’s my prayer that He does, at least. I finally realize that I did not choose this; those are powerful words.

So it’s not happiness that I’m an opponent of. It’s the worthless pursuit of making things happen just to make them happen; it’s lethargy, in all its forms (you know who I’m looking at, let the reader understand); it’s the comfort zone of knowing where you want to stay and not striving for more; it’s staying with the person you love because it’s safe, even though they are no longer connected to you. “Why would we rather put ourselves through (heck) than sleep alone at night?” It’s contentness, in all its forms; it’s civil war for the purpose of fighting and fighting alone to cause drama and to shake up the world; it’s trying to solve a problem with registrations and installations you yourself create; it’s waking up earlier than God intended you to.

I always wondered how God could let “that” happen. And yeah, I know I’m here in the city because of it, I know that if everything hadn’t happened the way it did I might not be here. But I might. He knew I loved the city, and even though he was against it, I’m positive he would have embraced it for my sake; but now I’m thinking it was God’s divine intervention to keep him in the place where his heart desired and ultimately has thrived (let the reader understand). And in doing so, He began the path that would ultimately lead me here.

So now what am I doing? Trying to patch together a solution by running wires and manipulating ties? Those who are loudest and push for their own agendas are farthest from God. It’s the quiet ones, the submissive ones, who get it. And I think we could all take a page from that in a way that does make male and female equal. Yes, God created us different, but somewhere along the line people started viewing one skillset as more important than the other, causing the problems we have today. And I have to wonder if this is another example of pushing one’s agenda (furthering a career or traveling around the world or what have you) over God’s. I’m not saying God’s will is the only thing you need to be doing (as that desensitizes the entire situation and makes women objects!) and I’m also not saying that every person on Earth has to become a mindless slave to the system of furthering on our process. Rather, far from it: the process should be as unconventional and as specialized to each person, each area, each country as possible, whether America or Japan, whether Indiana or Arizona or Ohio or wherever.

But I digress. If God calls you to corporate, go corporate. If God calls you home, go home. If God calls you to be a roller coaster, then for goodness sake, be the most awesome roller coaster you can be. One must be flexible and always listening for His voice, steady in their dedication to the track but always willing to move along that clothoid loop, that batwing, that bunny hill or overbanked turn.

But you can’t be content. You can’t sit on your butt and eat ramen for the rest of your life and guru guru. You can’t work at the same restaurant that frustrates you. You can’t refuse something just because you’re scared. And you cannot fail to rise to the occasion to claim what is rightfully yours by birthright, lest you trade it for the soup of contentness and forever fall out of favor.

You can’t fall to your hormones somewhere between Canal and Spring on the N line. No matter how you may protest, subway trains don’t go backwards. To make it work, you have to take the N to 42nd, transfer to the 2, up to 149th Street Grand Concourse where the White Plains Line begins. And once you accept that, once you turn and you don’t look back and you embrace what God has put right in front of you -- instead of trashing it or ignoring it or treating it horrible -- God’s will is made clear, in the form of a mirrored parallel and two hearts becoming one. For what God has brought together, let no man -- or angel -- tear apart.

(stamp) Destiny.

It’s not what you think it is, Oginome.

I guess I can use this as a suitable analogy. One of my favorite anime, Mawaru Penguindrum, features a school girl by the name of Ringo Oginome (her name is Ringo for the same reason that my computer’s name is Ringo). Her older sister, Momoka, died a long time ago before she was born, leaving behind an eerie diary that foretells events that happen. Momoka’s death tore apart her family and those Ringo has come to love, and she senses something’s not right. The way she tries to fix this is by becoming Momoka in her place, recreating the curry her family used to make and trying to get in good with Momoka’s old love interest, to the point where it obsesses her (my associate keeps saying she’s ‘psycho’ but I prefer ‘misunderstood’). See, the problem is that nobody can properly replace Momoka. In order to really make destiny happen, Ringo just needs to be herself and to let those around her (read: Shoma) lead her to that place with sunshine and flowers where she can be truly joyful.

Of course, this IS Penguindrum we’re talking about, let the reader understand. Destiny starts to spin, and until Kanba and Shoma make everything right and bring the truth to light again, it will continue to guru guru for them as well. The theme song even makes reference to this: “destiny begins to spin.”

As it does now.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason why the six train is too late.


Mar. 25th, 2013 03:54 pm
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I posted information about Dvorak on the Facebook page just before the weekend. I know one of my friends has some ideas for the story, but I want to wait until I actually get some ideas in writing before I really try to form it. I don't want for one person to run the entire story. I also reserve the right to not tell where I got my ideas from (at least not right away).


Something that should be avoided at all costs, but something that I inadvertently caused. Since I have trouble forgiving myself, I can't just let it go...although in many ways I have. I think I might write a story about it -- in fact I think I know what to do in particular. It'll have to stay a secret up until the 3 Day Novel Challenge, though, which I will be participating in this year (no question, it's happening -- it's on the Grand Master List). If I'm able to, I'd like to be able to write a story that I now know by heart, a tale that I once almost completed a long time ago but completely scrapped post-Summer of Supercharged Hearts. It only exists in small fragments now.

But it's never left me alone, and if I'm going to write a novel in three days, I might as well make it a story like that.

I'll hash it out with my team and see if it will work.

In the meantime, I do my best with the secrets I have, with the way I'm able to manipulate the world, praying that everything will shake out the way it needs to...and praying for a break.

I hope to get one this weekend.

Also, this is the last time I try to post from work. >//<
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Each person is different. Each person sees the world differently. Each one of us has our own reality.

Problems arise when realities clash.

You are afraid of me because I’ve hurt you in the past, and you’re afraid I will do it again. But I am afraid of you for the exact same reason. Because we both expect bad things from the other person, we cower in fear, we run away. But I’m the only person you have, you say. No matter what, therefore, you can’t really properly run away.

I’m all you’ve got.

The positions we are in now make it a lot easier, from a vantage point, to decipher what these trying times have meant. And it makes me see that each person does have their own reality. When two realities come together -- when two tracks meet -- we search for ways that our realities match. And we often find things we both like -- Breakfast at Tiffany’s -- and things we’re not so hot on.

And we overlook how the realities clash. At first.

But those are lives, realities, that we have made for ourselves over years and years and years. We are not so easy to budge from our prejudices, things we have been taught, ideals we hold for ourselves, ‘the way things should be.’ This is even more true when the realities clash so hard that it leaves your entire families reeling. What would it be like if I came home with someone from a different country, or race, or gender? What kind of clashes would I have to first overlook before I myself could bring that person home? Should I even do so? Furthermore, should these clashes be avoided at all costs, to make sure there is no hurt done and no feathers ruffled, or should we purposely leave muddy footprints all over ourselves? It’s a question of whether we follow or lead, and there’s not a right answer to either.

The only answer I give then is to choose what you want, and to be unwavering in your conviction for it. Whether that’s a music career or to marry the love of your life, as long as you are dilligent and fulfill your responsibilities to the utmost of your potential, you will live life with no regrets, you will live it in the way you want, and I’m sure God will somehow be pleased.

And one more thing -- do not let harm come to yourself or others. If all you are doing by being with someone is destroying both of you because neither one of you has an appropriate view of their reality, then something must be done.

From here on out, I have to live my life to the best of my reality as possible. But I’m also aware that other people do not share that same reality. It doesn’t mean that they are better and that my reality must mold to theirs (lest I stay worthless) -- it just means that we need to come to an understanding of what this truth, this shared reality, truly is. It means compromise, it means cutting the puffy sleeves off the dress but keeping the dress, it means meeting in the middle ‘neath that old Georgia Pine, it means when she leaves Amarillo to take that job in Tennessee, sometimes you have to quit yours so you two can be together. It also means I need to stop making references to old country songs.

But it means that the two of you create a shared experience, and that’s something nobody in this world can replicate. Your parents may prepare you for the world ahead, but they won’t have quite the hold on your sociology once you leave and discover things for yourself. We all rise, we all fall, and that impacts each and every single one of our realities. And we must decide for each and every one of us what is the truth in our lives.

Now, I’m sure someone is gonna argue me on this one, saying there is only one Truth. Okay. But what will you do if someone dosen’t accept that Truth? Ignore them, shun them, isolate and discriminate against them? Is that okay by your Truth to do that to them? There is no line between slave and free, black and white, male and female. If someone has a different version of reality, get over it.

It’s hard. It’s the most confusing and scary reality I’ve ever faced, one that is so similar and yet so different from mine. I have to play by your rules, by your system, in order for this to work. But I’m willing to.

Are you?


Mar. 18th, 2013 04:45 pm
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It still makes me want to roll over and play dead.

At some point in the entire process, I stop existing. I roll over and play dead, as I said. I am invisible, and I am meant to be invisible so that others will not see me. This is what I have been taught from a young age, reinforced by the one who taught me that I am alone.

And yet, I am not alone. That has already been proven by my relocation to the City. So why do I still live like I am underneath someone’s foot?

I think part of this phenomenon is that there is still someone I am scared of. You would think that after I sorted everything out emotionally at Christmas, I’d be good, right? Wrong. There’s still a small thread of the fear, holding onto me, insisting that this person will never give up and I should just roll over and play dead, go back to the horror I was living in all last year, where my pain was silenced and disregarded. It was one of the rare instances in my life where I actually turned to writing as an outlet for a time -- Blue Impulse came from that.

I’ve ran. I’ve protected myself in every way I know how, reaching forward into both sides. But it’s still not enough. It will never be enough. I feel almost like a victim of abuse running away from her abuser. That’s not what it is -- mostly. I do not do this because of him. I do this because of myself. This weekend was rough enough as it was; my chest still tightens and I get dizzy thinking about what could have, should have happened but didn’t because I got lucky (let the reader understand).

But I’m still putting myself down in one way or another. I call myself a mutt. Does that say anything about how I view myself?

This has to stop -- not only for me, but for people everywhere. I don’t just mean women, although we have a nasty habit of doing this to ourselves. And it’s not just us, either. It always starts with an external source, which the internal source then multiplies and amplifies until the tapes running in our heads cannot be silenced, save for an obvious but horrid answer.

Who is able to help you when you can’t help yourself? Some turn to religion. Others turn to science. The answer is different for everybody, so there’s no real way to fix the problem. Except we continuously know that it must, at all costs, be fixed lest we continue this way. Maybe we should start at the beginning, which we all know, is a very good place to start.

In which case, perhaps we should start with Cedar Point.

Kind of an odd place to be, right? As far as a start. For me, it makes sense, as amusement parks and roller coasters have found their way into who I am. But I was going to Kings Island long before the Point itself. And there are so many things at the Point that connect me to who I want to be -- but it’s also a reminder of where it all began.

And it’s possible to start over. It’s always possible to start over.

Until then, I apologize to anybody I may have offended the past two and a half years with my actions, or possibly my inaction. I do not reserve the right to be perfect, though my other half may insist on complete and total Jesus-ness. I am one hundred percent human, and I reserve the right to be so. If you finally want to speak with me again, I would love to hear from you.

It’s kind of like coming out from underneath a tunnel, reaching that point at 96th and Park where the trains meet the sky, heading out toward a bright and glorious future and whatever may lay ahead on the Hudson line.

I’m not perfect. But someone here is. And that someone gave New York City to me, and I’ll be darned if I’m not going to use it.
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I finished Sever by Lauren DeStefano this morning before I came to Darling Coffee. Lauren's a friend of a friend, which is why I've stuck with the books. I think the plot can be kind of funky sometimes, but her characters are cool and she does have some of the most beautiful writing around.

I'm sitting here now working on organization for Dvorak. I put up the Facebook page earlier today, which will tie directly into this blog. Can't wait so scared.

Today is St. Patrick's Day, which means that everybody always either gets drunk off their rockers or they go around pinching those of us who have neglected to wear green. I got lucky and found my green cargo pants, so I'm covered. (They're olive. It's a shade of green.) I deal enough with the color green on a daily basis; I don't need it to be redefined for twenty four hours. Let's just make it to on-season in one piece -- which around here, is one more week. Luna Park opens the 24th of March.

I've never needed it to open so bad.

In the meantime, the Point opens May 11. It's the only place I'm unsure of as to how I'm gonna visit it this summer; my hope is to cover the Island and Holiday World (my 'new park' for the Grand Master List) after I'm in Indy for Sarah's wedding. But I haven't figured it out, but I'm sure I will. I have to, one way or another. It's imperative. I've been to the Point every single year since I started going to parks. It can't NOT happen; that's kind of impossible.

I'll figure it out.

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I think I'm going to try to remember to post here more often. (Definitely going to happen next month, of course.)

Trash is piling up again.

Apparently BCBS didn't receive my check because they cancelled everything. Guess who gets to make a phone call on Monday? I haven't been happy about that all day and it's been affecting me in some weird ways.

I got to go see Kokuriko (Poppy Hill) today. I think it was pretty opposite from what a lot of people were expecting (this is Ghibli we're talking about) but it was exactly what I was hoping it would be.

Reading, anime, bed.

2013 so far has been better than 2012. I pray it stays that way.
memorialrainbow: (Default)
Ladies and gentlemen, as you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the train. )

Ladies and Gentlemen, because of a police investigation at 125th Street, there are delays in 4, 5, and 6 trains at this time.

Downtown 4 trains are terminating at 149th Street -- Grand Concourse.
Downtown 6 trains are terminating at Third Ave -- 138th Street.

Uptown 5 trains are running on the 2 line.

February 2017



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